


No Hope, No Harm

by orphan_account



Series: good times for a change [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Blackmail, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-28
Updated: 2010-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam learns that a lot of what he believed, about Kris, about their friendship, was a lie. He is not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hope, No Harm

**Author's Note:**

> I've already posted a version of this story on my LJ, but every time I repost it I edit bits, so, um. It's worth reading again!

Adam had actually burst out laughing as soon as he saw the title of the sound file he'd been linked to:

 _Kradam fanfic read in dramatic fashion by yours truly!!!_

The link in his twitter inbox had seemed so innocent. It had come in a direct message, though after having listened to the mp3 he realised it couldn't have come from his brother. This was even before he'd gotten a pissed off text from Neil a few hours later.

 _your motherfucking fans hacked my twitter, RockStar. keep them on a leash._

 

Still under the impression he was going to hear Neil portentously reading things like "Adam's throbbing member burst through the confines of his pants as Kris looked on in awe and fear", Adam had put it on his Iphone, figuring he needed a good laugh. He was so exhausted he could scream, these days. He'd actually thought once the Idols tour was over he'd have some time for himself (and for Drake, _great how that turned out_ ). Instead, there was always more work, finishing the album, the fucking apocalypse video, his single, the video for that- it just went on and on. And yes, he enjoyed it all, and it was a dream come true, but sometimes it was just. Exhausting.

And this . . . this _fucking_ thing was just the last straw. Everything was being taken away from him: his privacy, his anonymity, Drake, and now Kris's friendship. He knew he often sounded over-dramatic ( _too theatrical, Adam_ ), and he could practically hear Brad imitating him with a diva-esque screech. It didn't change the fact that the person he'd thought was a good friend sounded like he couldn't wait to see the back of him.

Adam had believed it so fervently - had _wanted_ to believe in their friendship, their closeness. He had never seen contempt in Kris's eyes: maybe because he hadn't been looking for it? How had he let himself be so open? He usually never let people in until he was absolutely sure, his schooldays had taught him that much. What was he going to do? He couldn't face Kris again, but there was that fucking concert coming up. Kradison. What a fucking joke. Did Alli know? Was everyone in on it? That was _really_ paranoid, he supposed. He'd only heard Kris and Katy on the sound file, and some guy ( _Daniel?_ ) they were talking to on the phone. Every encounter he'd had with Kris's family during the tour suddenly came to mind, every conversation had an ulterior motive, a hidden barb. It had taken him so many years to create a new, armour-plated Adam. And here he was, a laughing stock again.

His phone suddenly chimed with a text message, and he nearly dropped it. Kris. Of course. He read it in disbelief.

 _what up, dude, looking frwrd to concert? cant wait!_

He'd always believed Kris when he'd said that he preferred texting him to using twitter.

"It's more private that way, right? You know the fans, they make such a big deal of everything!"

And Kris had smiled his (sweet, adorable) smile that made you want to give him anything - and apparently also made you want to turn around so that he could stab you in the back.

 _me 2 hey where r u?_

 _on d way to airprt comin yr way :D_

Adam put a hand over his eyes. He had to stop this, he was a man, not a fucking teenage girl. Apologies to Alli. So he would put the cat among the pigeons. He wasn't sure he believed the last part of the message, the one not in Kris or Katy's voices, but he was curious now, and wanted to see how completely he'd been played.

 _chk yr email hv attachd link 2 new single hedfonz only big secret sssh!!!_

He smiled bitterly with a certain satisfaction when the answering text came almost immediately.

 _fuck OMG amzn thanx!_

He decided to swim a few lengths. Maybe exercise really did work on anger, like Neil said. His last bitter thought before going upstairs for a towel was whether people got Academy Awards for text messaging. _You're a better actor than I thought, Kristopher._

 

Kris finished the text to Adam and shook his head. Adam really had it bad for him, still. Sending him his new single? The record company would hang him out to dry if they knew.

Twenty minutes later, after having listened to the mp3 with mounting horror, he didn't feel nearly so calm, and his handler had to shake him to make him focus on the announcer calling their flight.  
Through the ringing in his ears, he could barely hear Cale.

"Kris? Kris! We're boarding! Kris, are you ok?"

Cale and the others were looking weirdly at him now.

"You're fucking pale, man! Are you gonna be sick?"

He took a deep, deliberate breath and managed to pull himself together. He got up, shakily.

"I'm fine. I. Guys, I'm _fine_. Forgot to eat this morning. I'll feel better on the plane."

As soon as they sat down in first class, a hostess appeared with some fruit and juice, which Kris forced down, and all the while his brain was in overdrive.

The first part of the mp3 was a phone conversation between him and Daniel, with Katy adding comments. It had been a week after the finale, and Daniel had asked him how much longer he'd have to be all buddy-buddy with that "freak". Not bothering to correct Daniel's opinion of Adam, Kris had just answered that it would only be for the tour, he hoped, while Katy had pointed out that without their so-called great friendship and bromance (she was speaking through peals of laughter at this point), Kris would have gone home at around 'birth year' week. The words just kept reverberating in his head. Their conversation sounded so much worse than he remembered. Granted, the whole GREATEST FRIENDSHIP EVER had started to grate on him by then, but in the conversation he sounded as though he really couldn't stand Adam.

The worst part came at the end, though, when their three-way conversation finished and a robotic voice nearly deafened him.

 _ASK KRIS ALLEN BY HOW MANY VOTES HE LOST AMERICAN IDOL._

Who was _this_? And how did they know? He hadn't even told Katy. And it's not like it was his decision, or even his idea. The day after the finale he'd been called to a meeting in the boardroom at 19E. When he got there, there was only one person in the shadowed room. Before he even tried to ask what was going on, a sheet of paper was put in front of him, with the numbers for the final tally of the votes.

"Wait a minute . . . this says, Adam Lambert won by about a hundred votes. What the hell is going on?"

The man smiled, with some contempt.

"Please don't tell me you feel sorry for him. We know all about your so-called "friendship". Very good tactics, by the way. This document is going straight into the shredder. We only ask you to remember who exactly gave you this prize, especially when it comes to renewing your contract. Good day, Mr Allen."

And that was that. Yeah, it wasn't fair to Adam. But Adam _said_ that he never wanted to win ( _yeah, like he's going to say anything else_ ). And Kris had decided he was going to forget all about that meeting and pretend it never happened. By the time the tour ended, he'd fully convinced himself of that, and even started resenting the incessant questions about Adam's set, and Adam's songs, and Adam's _jacket_ , and Adam's album. Except someone else knew.

And now, _Adam_ knew. Would Adam want to open his mouth about it? But no, Adam was signed with 19E too, and they'd done so much for his album (who else would have got Lady fucking Gaga to give him a song?), maybe that was why Adam hadn't gone straight to TMZ? Only one thing was clear: he had to talk to Adam, and see . . . what Adam wanted. That was it, really. What did Adam want? Oh, Kris knew what Adam wanted a few months ago, but now? He forced his mind not to _go there_. He had to stop being ridiculous, this wasn't some late-night Cinemax feature in which sex was the answer to everything.

 

Three hours later, this thought would come back to taunt him. _So, Skinemax it is._

"You want _what?_ "

There was a droning sound in his head. This couldn't be happening to him. Any minute now, Ashton Kutcher would jump out of nowhere with a hidden camera, babbling about a special edition of Idol Punk'd, though the part of his mind that kept coming up with dumbass comments wondered when Punk'd had become x-rated.

Adam sighed, and answered him, using this sing-song rhythm which suggested he was speaking to a particularly slow child.

"You heard me the first time."

Adam's eyes were chips of blue ice - Kris had never seen that look directed at him before. That scornful, _you are all so far beneath me_ look. Kris bit his lips and burst out, angrily.

"You can't fuckin' make me do this, Adam. This isn't . . . you're not . . . you don't have the _right_."

Adam moved up to him suddenly, practically looming over him, using his height advantage in a way he'd never done before. Kris tried to move back but realised the wall was behind him. They were in the rehearsal studios, and were supposed to be, well, _rehearsing_.

Adam bent over, his lips brushing Kris's ear. Kris flinched.

"I could just tweet the link to Perez, you know." His tone wasn't cold or angry. It was almost conversational.

"Perez has such a fucking hard-on for me, you wouldn't believe. He would _Lap. It. Up._ He'd find a way to write his piece of shit blog across the sky."

Adam's voice had become as slow and rich as molasses. His breath was warm, and Kris had to force himself not to flinch again.

"All you have to do is spend the night with me. And no-one will ever hear any of it."

"So I have to let you fu- sleep with you? That's what it'll take?"

Adam smiled suddenly, that big open smile that made him look ten years younger.

"Oh, _honey_. You won't be doing any sleeping!"

Kris could feel the blood rushing in his head, and clenched his fists. Was he actually making this into a joke? Adam was blackmailing him into sex, the least he could do was take it seriously.

Adam sighed, apparently having read Kris's emotions which were, as usual, written all over his face.

"Or you can walk away, and read tomorrow's headlines. Or the next day's. Or the next. Or whenever I decide to leak it. If I actually do that. Or you could wait for my anonymous friend to do the deed. Whatever."

Adam shrugged and started to walk away. Kris shook, flushing helplessly with rage, or . . . was it another emotion? No, he was angry, that was all. How could Adam do this to him? But it was pointless, whining about it wouldn't help. Even if the whole thing was bullshit, if the person who showed him the result was just playing mindgames, neither he nor Katy, and especially not Daniel came across very well in that recording. And he wasn't sure it was the kind of scandal which would be good or bad for his career. It was just one night. What could Adam do to him in one night?

"Wait!"

Adam stopped, and turned to face him, his arms crossed. He looked calm. His expression was neutral and cool.

Kris found that his mouth was incredibly dry, and swallowed.

"I'll. I'll do it, ok. When- when do you want us to . . . meet?"

Adam grinned, cheerful and sunny again.

"Tomorrow night. I'll book a hotel room and send you the keycard tomorrow morning. You won't have to check in or anything."

Kris couldn't hold back any longer.

"Why aren't you angry?", he burst out. Adam rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm angry, Kris. I'm very, _very_ angry. But I like to use my emotions in a productive way. And tomorrow night I'm gonna make you scream. It's gonna be hot!"

The smile came back, bigger this time. Then Adam turned away.

Kris could only mutter, stupidly, he thought.

"Did you just quote your song at me?"

Adam didn't seem to hear, though. He walked off, quickly, and Kris didn't see him for the rest of the day.

Kris tried to concentrate on the rehearsal for the rest of the afternoon, doing his best to push everything else out of his mind. Maybe Adam was just playing a trick on him, as payback. Yes, that would be it. He'd really convinced himself nothing would happen. Until the next morning, when he got a Hotel Bel-Air keycard in an envelope, with a note which said:

 _Call me as soon as you get this._

 

Adam pressed end call on his Iphone and allowed himself to laugh; he'd been holding back laughter through the entire phone call with a thoroughly confused Kris.

Kris actually thought he gave a shit about all that 'who won Idol' crap! And he was actually going through with it! Adam couldn't believe it was that easy - blackmail was the answer, all along. Maybe he should have tried that during those endless months of sharing the same room.

No, he didn't care about the Idol thing. The real reason . . . yes, he wanted Kris. But mainly he'd been made to feel like fat Adam again, high school Adam, boyfriendless Adam, afraid to be himself, afraid of being gay, sure that people were laughing at him whenever he turned his back, and sometimes to his face. Kris was going to spend a very instructive night finding out that you didn't mess with Adam Lambert. Not any more.

Not that he was going to hurt Kris. Well. Not _much_.

On the other hand, Adam'd had a few hours to think about the whole situation and to go back over the past eight months, and he couldn't believe that _everything_ had been a lie. The big lie was that Kris had never wanted to win: obviously he had. But Kris and Katy, and his little midwestern Machiavellian family had not bargained for someone like him. Kris _did_ feel something for Adam: a hundred unguarded photos did not lie.

So Adam was going to spend some hours teaching Kris a few home truths about himself. He allowed himself _one_ mean-spirited thought. Let's see how she likes him after I've turned him out. Then he shook his head and gave himself a severe talking to. No, he wasn't going to hurt Kris. This would be a learning experience. One which they both would thoroughly enjoy. He just had to make some more phone calls to get everything set up. This whole thing was going to cost him, but it was _so_ going to be worth it.

 

Kris couldn't help tapping his knee nervously in the taxi that evening. He was on the way to the Bel-Air Hotel (which is where Adam is going to bang your brains out, hooray), another mind-fuck. Adam had just laughed in that carefree way, saying that Kris deserved the very best. Just like last afternoon, Kris thought he would be feeling less nervous if Adam had been angry, or hurt, or both. This cheerful, happy attitude suggested that Adam was looking forward to this night too much to even be angry, and Kris had a vague idea of some of the things Adam enjoyed in bed. Very vague, and not reassuring at all. Hadn't Adam kept all the whips that had been thrown on stage? The man used a flogger as a key-ring!

Adam's last instruction was the one which baffled him the most.

"Don't wear anything you're attached to. I mean it, Kris. As for jewellery, you can wear your wedding ring. In fact, I insist! But nothing else. Ok?"

Kris had agreed, feeling more and more as though the last few hours had been an increasingly bewildering and terrifying nightmare. This whole thing was just . . . unreal. Adam was going to be taking off his clothes. Adam. He hadn't told anyone about this whole mess, and he had a sudden horrible thought. What if this was just a trick, and Adam had some hookers waiting for him in the room? And this would all be on TMZ the next day? No, he had to keep calm. If he knew anything, he knew that Adam wanted him.

So he had put on clothes which he didn't necessarily like, but which he knew Adam did: black button-down shirt, tight black jeans, black boots. And he was wearing his wedding ring, which he played with nervously as the taxi pulled up in the parking lot of one of the more private bungalow-type rooms.

As per instructions, he knocked and opened the door at six, on the dot. It was a moderately sized suite, not one of the more expensive and flashy rooms which might have attracted paparazzi attention. The sitting room was shadowed and in the middle of it stood Adam, with his arms folded. Adam smiled, and looked him up and down.

"Oh, _Kris_. Trying to get me to change my mind? If so, you're going about it the wrong way! You know, no-one is making you go through with this. You can leave at any time you like."

Kris shook his head, and tried to mutter something about not having changed his mind, and Adam just put two fingers on his lips.

"Ok, then. So, no more talking. Take off your clothes."

Kris just gaped at him - the change in subject stunned him, and set his mind into a whirl. Ten minutes ago he'd been in a taxi, and now he was going to get naked in front of Adam, who was still fully dressed. Adam just raised his eyebrows, and Kris started fumbling at his shirt buttons with fingers that seemed clumsy and thick. It seemed to take an age, and his breathing was loud in his ears, until he got the shirt off and put it on a nearby chair, emptying his pockets of his phone, his wallet, and his house keys. He could feel himself starting to blush as he opened his jeans and tugged them down, then realised he'd forgotten to take off his boots.

Adam waited patiently, never changing his expression, as Kris finally got off his boots, socks and jeans, and stood in front of him again, only in his briefs, which were black, too, he suddenly realised. Had his subconscious been trying to tell him something when he got dressed that day? Adam was suddenly a few millimetres away from him, and put two fingers inside the waistband of his briefs. His nails were polished, Kris thought irrationally, and felt cool and smooth against his skin.

" _All_ your clothes."

Kris felt a hot wave of colour sweeping towards his face from his chest, as he fumbled with his briefs, pulling them down and off.

"You blush all over!", Adam exclaimed with such a delighted tone that Kris wanted to smile too, except his face was frozen and his lips didn't want to work. He shook slightly as Adam stroked his chest and backside with soft, sweeping movements.

"Calm down, Kris. This is gonna be so good!"

Adam pulled Kris forward to a low table he hadn't noticed before in the semi-gloom. It was covered with a soft blanket and reached up to his thighs. Adam produced a set of padded handcuffs, and gently pushed Kris forward until he was bent over the table, then handcuffed his wrists to one of the table legs. This was some skill Adam had - it had taken him five minutes and Kris was buck-naked with his head hanging down and his ass in the air. Adam dropped a kiss on one of his shoulder blades.

"Good boy."

Adam walked towards an armchair which Kris hadn't noticed before, either. He wasn't going to win any prizes for observation that day, he thought irritably. He didn't know why he was feeling so shocked when Adam selected a bottle of lube and a . . . a . . .

"It's a buttplug, Kris," Adam said, using a matter-of-fact, _today's lesson is about sex toys_ , kind of tone. "You'll need some stretching before I fuck you."

Kris didn't know if it was better or worse that Adam was smiling as he said this, and it wasn't the vindictive smile of someone who was going to _fuck you up_ \- just Adam's usual happy smile which meant Adam was doing something he really enjoyed. Kris gritted his teeth and braced himself, only to jump when Adam put a hand on his ass.

"You know, if you can't relax, this is going to hurt more than it should."

"You relax," Kris muttered.

Adam just laughed and then Kris felt a cool, sticky finger rubbing over his hole, really gently but all the same persistently pushing in. He forced himself to relax, which should have been impossible but ended up being really easy. He collapsed onto the table and felt the muscles in his shoulders twinge as they relaxed from the cramped position he had been holding himself in. A second finger joined the first, equally slick, and soon they were twisting and turning, stretching his ass gently, and the sensation started becoming almost pleasant. He was too nervous about the buttplug to really get turned on, but he was certainly being lulled into a haze of faint pleasure.

"Ok, gonna put it in now."

Kris had almost forgotten what the fingers were prepping him for, but Adam gently pushed the plug in before he had a chance to tense up again. There was a faint twinge of pain as the plug's flared body stretched him more than Adam's fingers had, and the muscles in his ass started fluttering helplessly against the intruder.

"Mmmm. Very nice." Adam almost purred, and Kris, to his annoyance, felt himself starting to blush again. "You can tense up now, honey, 'cos I need you to hold that in for a while."

"I think I . . . I need to pee." Kris felt like he was going to die of shame.

"That's just an illusion. The plug is pressing against your prostate, don't worry. In fact, that's gonna be the best part!"

Kris had to imagine Adam's grin when he said that, because Adam was still standing behind him, and it hurt Kris's neck too much to try and crane his neck to catch a glimpse. He felt horribly helpless and vulnerable, and ashamed of what he must look like. Adam was stroking his back and his ass, again, almost pensively - then he gave his ass a slap and seemed to reach a decision.

"Don't go anywhere," Adam laughed, "I need to get rid of some of this stuff." Adam started rustling what sounded like a plastic bag, and he seemed to be putting Kris's clothes into it - Kris could hear the buttons on his jeans and his shirt clicking together as he stuffed them in.

"Adam? Adam, where are you going? My clothes . . . Adam! Don't leave me here like this!" Kris was wriggling around on the table now, desperate to catch a glimpse of Adam's face, and stopped only when Adam put a hand on the back of his neck.

"Kris. Am I going to have to gag you? I really don't want to. I'm going outside for two minutes. Now, chill."

Adam was as good as his word - a few minutes later (which still seemed endless to Kris as he hung over the table in the most helpless position he'd ever been in) the door to the room opened and Adam said, "See? That wasn't so bad now, was it? Don't bother about your clothes - I gave them to a maid to be thrown away. "

Kris couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow morning?"

"That's not my problem. Maybe you can call Katy and ask _her_ to get you some stuff." For the first time that evening, Kris could hear a note of anger in Adam's voice.

"Adam, I know this is going to sound . . . "

In the background, behind him, he could hear Adam unbuttoning and unzipping his own clothes. He was just getting used to the buttplug, he thought in panic. How big was Adam's dick, anyway?

"I'm really sorry, Adam, about the conversation, the whole thing . . . what we said about you. I'm sorry."

"You're only sorry you got caught," Adam replied matter-of-factly. He must be completely naked now, Kris thought. Adam walked up behind him and started moving the plug around, gently, making Kris squirm and bite his lip, moving up on his toes, involuntarily trying to get away from what was lodged inside him.

"We're doing Rihanna now?" he said shakily, trying to make Adam laugh, and defuse the atmosphere. It always worked in the past. Adam laughed, to Kris's relief, but then continued, "Are you trying to distract me? It won't work, you know!"

He slapped Kris's ass, again, making the plug move and brush against something inside him which gave him a sudden flash of pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. When he could actually focus again, he saw that Adam was standing in front of him, completely naked, and hard. Kris swallowed. He hadn't really listened to the Idol girls' speculation about Adam's dick size, but he knew there had been a lot of it, especially following country week. It had seemed like every time he walked into a room, blushing women were hastily closing a laptop, and once it hadn't closed fast enough for him not to glimpse Adam wearing skintight silver pants, which left practically nothing to the imagination. Naked, and at eye-level, Adam's cock looked enormous. _That_ was going in his ass? He wouldn't be sitting for a while, then.

Adam rubbed his thumb over Kris's lower lip, and pushed it in, gently, pulling it out again and using it to spread saliva over his lips. Kris knew exactly what was coming next. Maybe . . . that would be it, he thought hopefully. He would give Adam a terrible, amateurish blowjob, and Adam wouldn't bother with anything else. Besides, at Adam's age, it wasn't like he could keep going all night anymore.

Adam just smiled at him, saying "Open wide, baby. And cover your teeth." Kris opened his mouth, obediently, and Adam fed him his cock, slowly but relentlessly, until he felt the head brush at the back of his throat. Just as Kris thought his gag-reflex was about to kick in, Adam pulled out half-way, and pushed in again, and then again, and again, setting up a slow rhythm as he fucked Kris's face. Kris felt breathless and helpless. He was drooling and couldn't help but taste and smell Adam - the scent of him was overpowering, a smell of soap and shower products and musk. Adam's fingers rubbed circles over Kris's hollowed cheeks as he tried to suck, to make Adam come quicker. Kris's jaw was starting to ache, just as Adam pulled out of his mouth, abruptly. Kris tried to look up, dazed, but couldn't see Adam's expression.

"Close your eyes; keep your mouth open." Kris obeyed, puzzled, and was shocked when he felt the first hot splashes on his face and in his mouth. He swallowed involuntarily, and cringed at the bitter taste - when he tried to spit, Adam held his mouth closed with one hand and smeared his come all over Kris's face with the other.

Kris was shaking, and couldn't stop. His body ached from holding himself in such an unnatural position for so long, and he was faintly light-headed too. His ass was starting to cramp so badly he sighed in relief when Adam gently and slowly removed the thick plug. Maybe it was over? Maybe that was enough for Adam. He was so lost in speculation that he barely noticed Adam undoing the handcuffs, and then Adam was helping him stand up straight, and rubbing at the cricks in his back. The rush of blood to his head made him stagger, and before he knew it, he was lying on a bed, with his hands above his head, cuffed to a rail. He pulled at the cuffs, irritably. Adam had gone to the bathroom and was washing his hands - he came back with a glass of water and a washcloth. Kris took a drink of water gratefully, and Adam used the damp cloth to wipe Kris's face.

"Pity," he said. "It's a good look for you." Adam pushed two fingers in Kris's mouth, but Kris pulled away, irritably.

"What's with the cuffs? I said I'd do this."

"I like bondage." Adam grinned, happily. Kris looked down, and realised that Adam was hard, again. Adam noticed his surprise ( _shock_ ), and laughed, this time. "A little chemical assistance, baby! On such a special occasion, I need to keep going _all_ night long!"

"That shit will give you a heart attack," Kris mumbled. He tried not to think about _all night long_.

Adam starting stroking up and down Kris's thighs, first with one hand, then both, spreading his legs, careful to avoid touching his cock or balls. Kris started to flush now; despite the lingering ache in his ass and the resentment he felt for Adam having jerked off on his face, he was getting turned on. He tried to grit his teeth and ignore the buzz he was getting, but then Adam started mouthing at his thighs, applying little bites, and slowly licking up to his hip bone. Kris could feel his cock start to grow heavier and thicken, no matter how he tried to stop it. This was supposed to be his martyrdom, for fuck's sake! He was supposed to be suffering Adam's attentions bravely in order to keep his public reputation, not getting off on it. He tried pull away but Adam gave him a look, and then bent his head and gave a teasing lick over his hole. Oh, _fuck_. That was just too fucking much.

"Aren't you gonna fuck me? What the fuck are you doing?"

Adam smirked, and started stroking his cock, gently and loosely.

"This isn't something you're just going to suffer through in silence - I expect your full participation."

His hand tightened on Kris's cock, and he started jerking him off for real. Just as Kris felt his balls tightening, Adam stopped. And started licking around his cock. Again. Kris could have howled in frustration, he was so _fucking_ close.

Just as he was about to start begging for real, Adam gave him a cheeky smirk, bent his head, and swallowed Kris's cock to the root. Kris gave a yell of surprise and came almost instantaneously. Adam's throat muscles tightened around the head once, twice, and that was it, Kris's hips jerked convulsively as he chanted obscenities and shot down Adam's throat.

"Dirty boy," Adam murmured. He was licking his lips and looked so relaxed and content, that Kris allowed himself to be lulled once more. So he nearly fainted when Adam pushed his thighs up and slid into him in one smooth stroke. He must have been gaping like a fish - his mouth fell open in shock and he immediately tensed against the agony he expected, only to relax again when Adam slapped him on the ass.

"Stop that!", he admonished. Kris tried to pull himself together and focus on the sensations he was getting - he felt relaxed and almost sleepy after having come, but his ass was stretched to the point of pain. Adam had pushed his legs up so far he was practically bent double, and his thigh muscles were protesting. Adam's face was close enough to kiss, and his body was big and hot and heavy as it pushed into a shape he doubted he could have gotten into otherwise. His brain kept going back to the sensation of Adam filling and stretching him ( _so fucking big_ it kept gibbering), and his ass contracted uselessly a couple of times until his muscles stopped spasming and relaxed. Adam smiled.

"So tight. You're so _good_ , baby."

Then he closed his eyes and started thrusting. Kris could hear every horribly obscene sound in the room - the groans and gasps that he couldn't suppress, the slap of Adam's balls against his ass every time he bottomed out, even the squelching of the lube Adam had carefully slicked his dick with - all of these would have made him die of mortification if it hadn't for the blinding bursts of pleasure every time Adam's cock hit his prostate. He couldn't get hard again, it was too soon, but every thrust was so good it almost hurt. He realised he was babbling , "I can't, Adam, I _can't_ ," because Adam just murmured something reassuring and sped up his thrusts, until he came, and collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily. It was suddenly important for Kris to see Adam's expression, but his face was turned away. He pulled out abruptly, a sensation Kris was not going to forget in a hurry, got up and went to the bathroom. Kris could hear Adam using the washbasin, then he came out, leaned against the door-frame and studied Kris, his eyes shuttered.

Kris felt horribly vulnerable, and tried to turn his face away - he knew he must look a sight, hair matted, covered in his own come, his ass sore and stretched, and . . . leaking. He felt tears prickling at his eyes. Was this enough, now? Could he go home? He didn't know what was worse, that he'd enjoyed every second of it, or that Adam knew, and despised him anyway. Adam seemed to guess what he was thinking, and came over to unhook the cuffs from the bed-rail. He gently and carefully massaged Kris's arms, not meeting his eyes. When he finally did, Adam's mask was back in place, complete with sexy smirk and bedroom eyes.

"I think you need a nap, hon. Otherwise this will all be over much too soon. Night is still young!"

Kris just shrugged, not wanting to say anything - he felt like he he'd been taken apart by Adam, and he needed some time to put himself back together again.

"Here, lie on your side. Yeah, like that." Adam stroked Kris's hair gently, and Kris felt himself drifting away, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. Before he was fully asleep he had a sudden terrified thought, what if he leaves me here like this, cuffed to the bed?, and tried to fight his way back to consciousness, but Adam just shushed him gently, and he dozed off.

Waking up again was a slow and tortuous process. It was like he was stuck in a really bizarre dream, something about having sex with Adam? Because of some weird Idol thing. He opened his eyes suddenly. He wasn't dreaming. He was still in the bed, on his side, his hands cuffed in front of him. Someone was behind him, and . . . inside him. Adam. Adam was fucking him, was holding his leg up and away from his body, while pumping into him relentlessly from behind, and his cock was staring to get hard again. Kris could feel him kissing and biting his neck; Adam must have known he was awake, because he whispered in Kris's ear, angrily, "How're you going to explain these to the wife, Kris?" Kris couldn't answer, caught up in the multiple sensations coming from his cock and ass.

Adam kept thrusting, and hissing filthy things in Kris's ear, whispers about how Kris wanted this, and was made for this. Maybe he should keep Kris in that room, cuffed to the bed, lubed up, just for him. Or sell his time, keep him blindfolded and gagged, fucked all day and night, over and over and over.

"There'd be a line, Kris, all the way down to the lobby, all waiting to fuck you, Mr. Perfect. American. Idol."

Adam punctuated the last four words with four hard thrusts, each one making lights flash behind his eyes, as Adam hit his prostate every time. Just as Kris thought Adam was on the verge of orgasm, he pulled out, gently this time, and left Kris gasping from the over-stimulation and the mental pictures spinning through his head.

Kris was still rock hard, and immediately grabbed his cock, intending to bring himself off as quickly as possible. He really didn't want to dwell on what had excited him the most, Adam's dick, or the all too vivid image of him being fucked by all comers.

"Oh no you don't!" Adam grabbed the handcuff chain and pulled it up, over Kris's head, so that his hands were anchored to the back of his neck. "You can come when I say, not before."

Kris was sitting up, now, wincing. Adam grinned at him, and flicked the tip of his erect cock, playfully. He smiled at the way Kris squirmed. "All your rehearsals tomorrow are going to be done standing up, am I right?" Kris glared.

"No-one gets to fuck you, right?"

"Only the ones who love me, and who I can trust."

Kris winced at that, and tried to change the subject.

"Can I bring my hands down? I won't jerk off, I promise." He tried to smile appealingly, and Adam laughed.

"I think I like you like that! You look hot."

For the first time, Kris noticed there was a full-length mirror in the room, facing the bed, but the angle was wrong to see his reflection from where he was sitting.

"No, I think I have a better idea."

Adam put a cushion towards the foot of the bed, directly in front of the mirror, and helped Kris lie face down over it, so that his hips were supported by the cushion, and his head was practically hanging off the bed. Kris could feel his cock twitching and he desperately tried to rub it against something, but Adam slapped his ass again, and he stopped moving.

"Stop that. And bring your knees up a bit. That's right."

Now he was kneeling, face down, with his ass in the air, practically presenting his . . . himself to Adam, and he blushed so fiercely he felt he was going to combust. After tonight, I don't think I'll ever blush again, he thought resignedly. Adam's thumb rubbing over his hole made him jump, he was so sore.

" _Adam_ ," he whined.

"You'll need some more lube," Adam said, and proceeded to slick him up, almost clinically. Some more lube for what?

Adam climbed onto the bed and knelt behind him, his knees in between Kris's, pushing them apart so he had to spread his legs even wider, until his thighs were resting on Adam's. He kept feeling that he was falling off the bed, but Adam reassured him: "I've got you, baby. It's ok", patting his back all the while. Then Adam slowly pushed inside him, slick and hot and huge, until he could feel Adam's hips against his ass. He gave Kris a few moments to catch his breath, then he bent over, put one arm across his chest, and started carefully pulling Kris upwards.

As soon as Kris realised what Adam intended he started to panic.

"No, Adam, I can't, you'll split me in two, Adam please . . ."

He was close to tears when he was finally fully upright, impaled on Adam's dick, his thighs spread apart over Adam's, his hands still hooked behind his head. He was gasping and sobbing, and half-stunned, and Adam was shushing him and stroking his chest, gently.

"It's ok, see, you've done it, you're so beautiful like this, look, look at yourself."

Kris could see his reflection through his tears - his face and chest were red, his legs were spread obscenely, and even worse he could see where Adam's dick was stretching him open; and Adam saw beauty there? But he wasn't really in pain, he realised, just fuller than he had ever been in his life. And the sensation was not . . . unpleasurable. His erection, which had wilted, was slowly coming back, thanks in part to Adam's fingers, which were fluttering around the stretched rim of his ass, and over his cock and balls.

"Now just lie back against me," Adam murmured hypnotically in his ear, "and don't close your eyes. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you come."

Kris was rock hard once more, and Adam put his hands on his waist and started moving him up and down on his dick; Kris was openly sobbing now, the pleasure-pain was too much, he was riding Adam, and it seemed to go on forever. He could hear someone grunting loudly in the room, like an animal. The tears were streaming down his face now, and he thought he looked ridiculous in the mirror, bouncing up and down on Adam's lap like a toy. But it felt horrible and wonderful to be helpless, and just let Adam take charge.

Adam groaned deeply and pumped and came, deep inside Kris. Kris looked down at himself and realised he had come without even having touched his dick. His muscles felt limp and useless, and he barely even registered that Adam was carefully pulling out, helping him lie down again, and taking off the handcuffs. He couldn't open his eyes, and wanted to sleep for a week. He had never felt so exhausted.

The next time he woke up, the sun was shining straight into his eyes, the room was silent, and he was alone.

It took him a few seconds to remember what he was doing in a strange hotel room - as he slowly started cataloguing all the aches and pains all over his body (most of them centred around his ass) the events of the previous night came back to him. Had he really done all that? He felt like an old man as he got up off the bed. Every step sent shooting pain up his tail-bone, and he felt sore and sticky. He refused to even think about what he was going to do next, naked and abandoned in a strange place - shower first, solution later. The shower felt like heaven, and he was so thirsty he opened his mouth under the spray, lapping it up like a dog. After what seemed like half an hour, he got out, and wrapping a towel around his waist, stepped out into the sitting room.

Adam wasn't there. There was something on the table Adam had bent him over (he'd been wrong when he thought he'd never blush again) - he looked closer and realised it was a pile of clothes, next to his phone, his wallet, his house keys. The clothes weren't his, but looked like things he would wear: a plaid shirt, a white t-shirt, jeans, socks, underwear, everything in his size. On the floor he nearly stumbled over the shoes Adam had left: a pair of Chucks, also in his size. He wanted to cry, suddenly. He got dressed quickly and methodically, and decided to get out of there as quickly as possible. The sooner he was out, the sooner he could pretend the whole thing never happened. When he picked up his phone, something skittered across the wood, and he stopped it before it fell on the floor. It was a flash-drive, and under the table there was a usb connector cable. He'd never seen either before. He shook his head, stuffed everything into his pockets, and raced out of the room, determined to get away from the memories of that night.

In the limo to the studio, he connected the flash-drive to his phone and scrolled through its contents. He wanted to say he was horrified, but he'd kind of expected it. There he was, with Adam's come spattered all over his face, another picture showed his mouth stretched around Adam's cock, in yet another, he was bent over the table with his back arched, Adam's hand resting on his ass, the painted fingernails a clear clue to his identity. There was even a video, which he didn't need to play - the still showed him, asleep, naked, cuffed. For someone who didn't enjoy taking pictures, Adam certainly managed to capture the moment. Kris hadn't noticed a thing, understandably, though. He had been otherwise occupied at the time.

He disconnected everything and rubbed his face, trying to figure out what the message was, here. Keep your mouth shut? I can ruin you? He decided he needed to talk to Adam, and had already brought up his address book before it occurred to him that maybe Adam wasn't interested in anything Kris had to say. But there was something weird about the contacts list. Adam's number was gone. Not just his work phone, but his private phone number too. He stared at the screen, trying desperately to get his mind to work, and impulsively went to his music folder. Of course. All of Adam's songs had been deleted. This was Adam's message. _Keep away from me, don't call, don't write. I don't know you._

Well. They would see about that.


End file.
